Chapter Six

Legion looks back in time to see a cloud of metal and wood explode from where the shuttle used to be. It is puzzled for a quarter of a second, and then the nose of the shuttle appears suddenly and hits Shepard in the back of the shoulder. Shepard spins away from the impact, smashing into the dirt as the remains of the shuttle tumble off into the trees. Legion rushes to the fallen human, swerving around pieces of falling metal, and pulls him to his feet. Shepard doesn't respond, hanging limply in the geth's arms.

Jack screams in rage and launches a shockwave in the direction of the explosion. "What the fuck are you standing there for?" She yells at Legion. "Grab him and let's get the hell out of here!"

Legion hoists Shepard onto his shoulders, trying not to jostle his injured arm, and the squad retreats into the jungle.

…

Legion pushes through the jungle. Vines and fronds of strange plants cling to its legs, and its feet sink into the spongy soil. It does not want to think about the bloody wreck where Shepard's shoulder should be, or the way his breath hitches unevenly in his chest, so it looks around the forest instead. Thick-trunked trees stretch up at least one hundred meters, forming a thick canopy. A thin trickle of dirty light falls down to the forest floor, casting a pattern of swimming shadows over Legion's body. It is a strange feeling, being surrounded by so much life, so much organic-ness. It is unlike anywhere Legion has ever been before.

Jack looks over her shoulder apprehensively. "I don't think anyone's going to find us in all this," she says.

"Yes. Jack," says Legion, wishing the woman had a more informative title. "Shepard-Commander is badly hurt. He needs medical attention."

"Yeah, no shit. He got hit by a fucking space shuttle." She pushes gently on his shoulder, trying to get a better view. Shepard's eyelids flutter, and a moan escapes his lips. "All that armor didn't do a damn thing. We need to lay him down, get some medi-gel on it. Make a camp." She bites her lip and narrows her eyes as she looks around the forest.

Legion stares at the trees. Nothing is familiar here, all organic matter and chaos. It is suddenly acutely uncomfortable. It shifts it feet slightly and makes a barely audible buzzing sound from deep in its body.

Jack looks askance at the geth. "What's the matter with you?"

Legion says nothing.

"Fine. Whatever." Jack peers into the distance. "I think I see a clearing up there somewhere. We can set him down there, and try to do something for his shoulder." She starts off, and Legion follows her.

…

Jack and Legion have been trudging through the forest for some time now. The trees begin to slowly thin out, until they are left standing in a small circle covered by nothing but the late afternoon sky. The dense undergrowth disperses around the edges and there is nothing left underfoot but a carpet of thick grass.

Legion looks about the clearing for danger, and finding none, kneels to the ground and lifts Shepard down as carefully as it can. The commander shifts slightly in his sleep, but does not wake.

Jack crouches next to Legion and runs her hand over Shepard's crushed armor. Hairline cracks radiate around the front of the shoulder piece, leading back to a crater-like impact point in the back. Jack looks down at him, genuine concern showing in her face. Then she turns to Legion, her features shifting abruptly back to their usual angry set. "We have to turn him over," she says. "Help me get his armor off."

For the next hour and a half the two remain bent over their commander, removing his shattered armor piece by piece. It is a painstaking and laborious process. Shepard makes the occasional quiet sound of pain, but stays unconscious under a steady stream of medi-gel applications from their omni-tools. As they work, the sun slowly fades from a brilliant orange circle to a dim glow above the tops of the trees.

Finally, John Shepard lies half naked on the blood stained grass. A dark gash runs across the back of his shoulder, and from the angle of his arm Legion guesses that the scapula, clavicle, and humerus are broken. It speculates that there may also have been trauma to the spine and ribs, the extent of which is impossible to tell without lengthy examination. Legion notices the contrast in the commander's body; On one side his back is strong and muscled, obviously the product of a lifetime of physical exertion and devoted exercise, whereas his other side has been mangled and broken in a split second by uncontrollable events. Legion reflects that it serves to illustrate that no matter how strong organics appear to be, they are immeasurable fragile. It does not think this condescendingly; It feels instead a pull and a sadness to see the damage done to the commander. Legion finds itself wishing that it was the one who had been hit. It knows the pain that would have been caused by the impact, but somehow seeing Shepard lying there injured and bleeding hurts far more.

Its thoughts are interrupted by Jack as she sighs and gets to her feet. "It'll be night soon, and we won't last long without fire. I don't know how cold it's going to get, or what kind of shit runs around here at night, but if it's anything like Pragia we don't want to just sit here."

Legion looks up at her questioningly. "What will become of the commander? We must signal for-"

"He'll be alright until morning. The bleeding stopped, mostly, and whoever's looking for us is still out there. I'm going to get some firewood. You stay here."

Legion begins to protest, but she has already vanished into the rapidly darkening forest.

Silence closes in around them, broken only by Shepard's labored breathing and the occasional hoot of an animal in the distance. The sunset's strip of gold is receding into a purple smear, barely illuminating the clearing. Legion shuffles closer to the commander.

For a little while it watches him, worrying thoughts nagging at its mind. Suddenly Shepard shudders and coughs, convulsing slightly. Legion starts in alarm and reaches for him, but then pauses, reluctant to disturb the injured shoulder. Shepard coughs again, more loudly, and Legion can see him struggling for breath with his chest pressed into the ground. It agonizes for a second, then pulls Shepard toward it by his uninjured arm, and putting one hand supportively under his hip, begins to lift him onto his back. Shepard's arm brushes against the jutting edge of one of Legion's plates and he cries out softly. The geth flinches and lets go, dropping Shepard roughly into its lap. Legion freezes, horrified that he may have hurt the commander. Instead, Shepard coughs one last time, breathes a deep sigh, and huddles up against Legion's chest.

Legion stays perfectly still, its mind processing the sudden turn of events. Shepard's body is pressed snugly against Legion's, skin against metal, simple tactile senses. And yet, it feels like more. Legion doesn't know how. Things are or are not. Maybe... Maybe there is a third condition. This doesn't feel like an is or is not. Legion feels warm, not just where Shepard's body heat warms its plates, but far inside itself, far beyond the circuitry and wires. It knows that physically there is nothing else in there, no extra dimension of space, but it also knows that so close to Shepard it is full of something, something that it cannot see or hear or touch. It is confusing and frightening to have something inside of itself that it cannot explain.

Legion moves slowly, tentatively, shifting the commander off of itself and back onto the ground. It feels a strange loss with the gesture, as if Shepard and itself were forming an electric current, and at their parting the charge had dissipated. It looks at the commander, and feels the urge to touch him again, to be close, to share his presence. It would be a completely inappropriate and illogical thing to do, but nothing makes sense anymore.

It reaches out a hand towards Shepard's, brushing the tips of its fingers against the human's. The touch feels like an electric shock, a powerful tingling passing through its touch sensors. It is also not enough. Legion feels the urge again, and suddenly Shepard's hand is clasped gently withing its own. Legion looks at the way their mismatched hands fit perfectly together and feels a deep, thrumming, happiness spread through its body. There is a rightness to the gesture, a feeling that transcends everything that Legion knows about the world. It sits unmoving for uncounted minutes, physically still but its thoughts in violent turmoil.

Legion is so lost inside itself that it doesn't notice Jack until it hears her crashing through the brush a few feet away. It whips its head around to face her, pulling its hand back quickly. "Jack. Did you find sufficient fuel?"

Jack scowls suspiciously at the geth as she drops an armful of branches to the ground. "Yeah. What were you just doing?"

Legion looks at her silently. Jack holds the machine's gaze with a look that says she has a pretty damn good idea what it was doing. Then she rolls her eyes and sets to making a fire.

Legion watches her as she scrapes and bangs bits of wood together. Every now and then she''l swear loudly and the piece in her hands will explode in a mist of blue energy and splinters. Legion lets her continue like this for some time, on the basis that getting her aggression out in a way that doesn't involve hitting it must be a good thing. After the latest futile attempt however, it speaks up. "Jack, you are not succeeding."

The woman's eyes narrow dangerously. "Really. I hadn't noticed."

Legion's face plates widen slightly in the geth equivalent of an earnest expression. "Yes. Horizontal motion will not create adequate friction to ignite segments this large."

"Is that do," remarks Jack. "What do you suggest then?"

Legion moves closer, picking up two pieces of firewood. "The fuel is slightly damp, but it will still combust. Clockwise motion will prove the most effective." The geth positions a section of branch between its hands and begins sliding them back and forth, causing the stick to spin at blurring speed. Legion sets the stick against another piece of wood, and soon a thin wisp of smoke starts to rise from it. "Quickly. Apply air to the coal," it says.

Jack blows on the smoking patch of wood, and a small ember glows to life. Legion tears up a handful of dead grass and holds it over the coal. A flame flickers and grows, until Legion is holding a small fire in its cupped hands. Jack smiles, her face bathed in a faltering red light. Legion clears a section of grass away with its foot and sets the fire down on the dirt. Jack leans branches together over the flames, and before long the clearing is lit up by a small but steady campfire.

…

Jack sits down, hugging her knees into her chest as she stares into the fire. Legion paces the clearing once, twice, and then settles down next to Shepard. Jack looks at the geth over the crackling flames. Its head is bowed, its single glowing eye trained fixedly on the commander. She wonders if machines have body language. They had become so good at imitating real people, she wouldn't be surprised. There's definitely something out of place in the way Legion stares at him, something going on behind that cold glass portal. She says nothing for a few minutes, listening to the snap and pop of the fire and the quiet movement of the trees in the breeze.

Suddenly it hits her. She looks back to Legion. The machine is still in its own world, thinking about who knows what. "You fancy him, don't you?" she calls out to it.

Legion turns towards her, but says nothing. What passes for its face is completely unreadable, but Jack feels as if she has hit her mark. She looks down at her feet, shaking her head in cynical amusement. This is so typical. Legion makes an inquiring noise in her direction.

Jack smiles to herself. "I was just thinking something."

"What were you thinking?" asks the geth.

Jack runs a hand over her face exhaustedly and laughs. "I was just thinking, why am I not surprised; I'm stuck here, on a planet in the middle of nowhere full of people trying to kill me, with an unconscious commander and a gay robot."

"Bzzzz," says Legion.